


sunlight

by life_unsolved



Category: L.A. By Night, LA by Night, Vampire: The Masquerade, Vampire: The Masquerade- L.A. by Night
Genre: Angst, Did someone say War Casualities AU?, F/M, I'm Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 09:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19170583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/life_unsolved/pseuds/life_unsolved
Summary: His hoodie is torn to pieces, and there’s a gaping hole in the thigh of his jeans. It looks like a knife of some sort carved through part of his pant leg. His shoes are covered in muck and even more vitae. He looks like crap, even for him, and it’s then that the panic sets in. He’s looking at her with a wild, desperate look in his eyes and she knows before she asks.“Where’s Annabelle?”...Victor says I love you to Nelli. She doesn't get the chance to say it back.





	sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> I am trying a new style of writing, please let me know what you think. This is a little bit different from anything I've written before and I'm not really a writer, so I'm a little nervous. Feel free to leave advice in the comments. (No one tell Dave about this one)
> 
> I listened to Everything Stays by Olivia Olson, Sunlight by Hozier, Proud Corazon by Anthony Gonzalez, and On the Ocean by K'Jon while writing this. I don't recommend it, it probably only makes sense to me.

Nelli’s whole world changes the moment Jasper comes running through the door. They’re in the new club. She’s hanging up decorations on the second floor while Victor critiques from a nearby booth. They’re arguing over where to hang a golden map of Los Angeles when they hear him. Jasper doesn’t run, not really, so when he comes barging into the Maharani yelling for Victor, she draws her knife on instinct. The frame cracks as it hits the ground and she takes half a second to wince. _Victor isn’t going to be happy about that._ She can hear him yelling from behind her as she makes her way down the stairs. She’s moving towards Jasper quicker than anyone can see, and when she reaches him, she stops short.

He’s covered in kindred blood, a lot of it. The smell is overwhelming. He’s grasping at his arm and she can see the vitae darkening the front of his hoodie. That’s when she takes in the rest of him. His hoodie is torn to pieces, and there’s a gaping hole in the thigh of his jeans. It looks like a knife of some sort carved through part of his pant leg. His shoes are covered in muck and even more vitae. He looks like crap, even for him, and it’s then that the panic sets in. He’s staring at her with a wild, desperate look in his eyes and she knows before she asks.

“Where’s Annabelle?”

The two of them had left together, trying to find a clan of Gangrel that liked to hang out in the sewers at night. It wasn’t a rally; it was just canvassing. It should have been simple, the first easy night they’ve had in weeks. It was an attempt at listening to what they’d been told in the abandoned building across from the Hollywood and Highland. This was their way of calming down, or so they thought. It was a much smaller effort than before. They weren’t supposed to be home for hours. They were supposed to be together.

She’s proud that her voice doesn’t break. He’s shaking his head before the question is finished and she can feel the blood welling up in her eyes. “Jasper, what happened? Where’s Annabelle?” She startles. She didn’t notice Victor walking up behind her, but his presence is too much. She takes a step, two steps backwards away from the both of them. The soft click of her heels against the dark tiles help keep her grounded. The confusion in his voice is like a punch to the gut. He has to know. The only way Jasper would leave Annabelle was if she was…

She sniffs at him more deliberately, allowing her senses to sharpen. He’s covered in blood, but there’s a lot of it. Too much of it to be all his. She tunes out the scent of his rot. She can smell a few unfamiliar flavors that are all being covered by the raging scent of baby Brujah vitae. Annabelle. He’s covered in her blood as much as he is his own, except he made it back. A new thought washes over her mind, and she forces it down. She didn’t trust Jasper with most things, but she trusted him with Annabelle.

_He would never-_

“I’m so sorry,” and the unfamiliar words match the broken look in his eyes. She thinks for a moment that the world is ending. The only thing that keeps her standing is that she knows Jasper. If someone had killed Annabelle, they would've had to kill him too. She watches his face and tries to piece together the story.

“Is she-?” She doesn’t want the answer, but she can’t help but to ask.

He shakes his head and some of the wild energy drains out of him. He opens his mouth and then shuts it hard, the vitae spilling onto his cheeks. She’s never seen Jasper cry before, and she hopes to never see it again. “They took her. I tried to follow them, but they sent another group to hold me off and by the time I finished with them she was gone.”

She knows something horrible must have happened, but to hear the words out loud is like taking a knife to the stomach. She presses one hand against the invisible wound instinctively. She spins towards Victor before she can stop herself, “Can you do something? Can we make a deal? Can we talk to them?”

Victor’s already on the phone, “Maybe Fiorenza can-” It rings in his hand. He checks the caller ID and hesitates for a moment before he answers, putting it on speaker. He takes a deep breath and stares at her, not breaking eye contact as he speaks. “Hello?”

The voice on the other line is familiar, “Victor! Victor, where’s Jasper? I didn’t see Jas-” Annabelle’s gone in an instant. There’s a muffled cry of pain and she knows that Annabelle is giving them hell. She’s proud and furious all at once. _That’s my girl,_ and it’s more bitter than it should be. They can all hear a struggle on the other end before another voice greets them.

“Good evening, Baron.” Her heart drops into her stomach. She knows logically what must have happened, but to have it be confirmed seems to be the trigger. Twin plumes of rage and fear dance in her chest. Victor is shaking as he answers, motioning to Campbell. The man walks over, and Victor simply mouths “911.” The other man nods, walking away quickly. There is a blur of quiet activity as people in dark suits begin to move at a frenzied pace around the club. The new security team prepares for the worst. She wants to tell them it’s too late. The worst has already arrived.

“Good evening, Prince Vannevar. How are you on this fine night?” She wants to hit him. She wants to hate him for sounding so calm when she can hear the muffled sounds of Jasper’s crying and her own hitching breath, but for as calm as he sounds, he’s so clearly affected. She can see where the phone is beginning to bend under his fingers, and she goes over to him and pries it out of his hand before he can break it, holding it up to him. With her other hand, she reaches out and strokes the side of his face, trying to ease some of the tension in him. He leans into her hand a little. She runs her fingers through his beard before she pulls away.

“I’m doing rather well, Baron, if I do say so myself. You see, I seemed to have stumbled across something of yours earlier this evening, and I was wondering if you wanted it back.”

There’s a moment of relief, followed by terror. Victor loosens the dark tie from around his neck, pulling it over his head and tossing it away from him. He pops the top few buttons of his shirt like that will help him breathe better. Suddenly, her own clothes seem too tight. She fights the urge to pull at the mesh of her top and even her flowy slacks begin to chafe. She compromises by pulling the beret from her head, tossing it onto a nearby worktable.

She runs a quick hand through her hair while her mind races. Nelli can’t imagine what they’ll have to give in order to save her. She can see herself back in the garden with the other roses and she wants to scream. She focuses on keeping her strength out of her fingers, taking a second to straighten his collar out of habit.

Victor seems just as wary, but she doesn’t doubt him. He would do anything to save any one of them. He would hate Camarilla life, and the beginning would be hell, but Victor was a survivor. After their discipline was over, they would adjust. Hopefully. She tries to picture Victor and Jasper lounging around the Camarilla court. Annabelle would have to leave. She tries to picture Annabelle and Mark in Seattle, and she knows as soon Victor’s gotten the terms of her release, they’ll start to plan her escape. Annabelle couldn’t survive life in the Tower.

“It would seem that you have. I would certainly love to take that off your hands, I simply hope that it’s not damaged when I come to get it.”

He’s not looking at her anymore. He’s watching the phone like if he takes his eyes off it, Annabelle will die. It’s quite possible that she will anyway. She pushes the thought aside. If Vannevar is calling, there must be a chance. Or that’s what she tells herself.

Jasper is watching, she can see him out of the corner of her eye, and everything about him seems darkened. Dulled. He will probably never forgive himself for this, and she tries to find the words to comfort him despite the accusations that dance quietly on her lips. There's still hope.

There’s a tinny laugh through the speaker. “The level of damage is entirely out of my hands, Baron. Some people simply don’t know when to quit. I hope to get it back to you before any real harm is done. I could probably get it back to you tonight, if you find yourself amenable.”

Victor’s nodding before Vannevar’s finished speaking, “Of course. We can meet you wherever you’d like. Name the time and the place.” _And the price_ , she whispers in the back of her head.

“Now, now, Victor. There is a cost for rushed delivery, especially if you want this package in good condition. And I can’t say what the condition will be if I have to keep it much longer.”

He glances up at her. The look on his face is entirely unreadable for once. “And the cost is?” Nelli tries to steel her heart for going back to the Ivory Tower. She pretends she can’t feel the ghost of Chaz Price breathing on the back of her neck and ignores the panic fluttering in her stomach.

“You, Baron.”

The world seems to pause. The room doesn’t get quiet, no one stops moving, but she can’t hear anything. She nearly drops the phone before he pulls it from her hand. It feels like a joke. She’s sure she’s misheard him, but then she hears the sharp intake from Jasper behind her. She looks back and his eyes are big. Then he laughs bitterly and the tears start-up again. It’s an odd picture, she’ll remember it for the rest of her unlife. She turns her attention back to Victor. She waits for him to refuse, explain that both of them are needed here. There must be something else. He doesn’t.

His mouth is moving, but she can’t hear the exact words. He looks calmer than he has since Jasper ran in. She listens as Victor and Vannevar discuss a meeting place and time. They discuss who to bring and how the exchange will be made. Two hours. Mortals and the Coterie can come, no one else. Hollywood.

By the time she can finally bring herself to speak, he’s hung up. “Victor,” she whispers. He doesn’t look at her, yelling at Campbell to arrange a car. There's a distant voice of agreement and then everything seems dangerously real. Victor begins going through his phone quickly, sending out various messages. He doesn’t seem stressed at all and it only serves to make her more nervous.

“Victor, you can’t.” She doesn’t even know she’s talking until he looks at her. He gives her a resigned smile. “We both know I don’t have a choice.” He walks away, giving more instructions to the crew. He takes a seat at the almost finished bar. Jasper walks up behind him, stepping past Nelli. She watches as Jasper puts one hand on his shoulder. She could almost swear that her heart is beating.

She wanders in their direction. Jasper’s talking again, but she doesn’t try to participate. She watches Victor as the two of them plan, taking in the way his dark suit jacket fit him. The suits made him look boxy sometimes, but he was deceptively muscular. He was so tall, all his clothes had to be tailored. The vague memory of fitting him for the first-time creeps into her brain.

He had teased her the entire time. _“I’ll understand if you need to take a break. I know how tempting I am.”_ They hadn’t known each other very well, and it would have made anyone else seem like an asshole, but he was giving her that classic Temple smile and she had only been able to laugh. Even then, her laugh made him smile.

She focuses on the two of them.

It's decided more quickly than she thinks is reasonable. The three of them would go together. He would leave and Annabelle would come back. She can’t think. Jasper heads off to mend and grab more supplies. He doesn’t meet her eyes as he stalks past her and she wonders if they’ll ever be able to look at each other again if this happens. _If,_ she scoffs in her head. As if there was a choice.

Victor calls someone else, giving them a key to his office and asking them to bring him the blue folder. She knows that folder. They both have one. She sits down on the stool next to him and tries to find the words. “He might not k-,” she starts before cutting herself off. She stares ahead at the half-stocked shelves. He nods gravely. “He might not.”

She feels like her throat is closing. “Can’t we fight? Call the other Barons, and get her back ourselves?” She knows what she’s suggesting is ridiculous before he chuckles. They already had her.

“If we don’t show up, she _will_ die.”

She knows that isn’t an option for any of them. They sit in silence for a moment. The security guard comes back with the folder in hand and she watches Victor sign and double-check the documents that’ll make this place hers. All his accounts and holdings will be transferred to her. She is going to become very rich soon and tears sting in the corners of her eyes. She watches him read the updated version of his will that includes Annabelle and Jasper along with his sons. He seems satisfied, offering her a weak smile before calling, “Campbell, come here please!”

Campbell walks up to them with worry in his eyes. “We’re almost ready, sir. We’ll get you out of here and this place will be secured until you return.” Victor laughs, clapping Campbell on the shoulder. “You see to that. And will you take care of this for me?” Victor hands the man the blue folder that secures her future. “Not now, I want you to drive us tonight, but when this is all over. Make sure everything in here is settled.”

Campbell nods at them both before he gets back into the fray of rushing security members, giving out orders. They watch him work silently, and Nelli wonders what Campbell will do when Victor’s not around anymore. Victor reaches out and grabs her hand. “He’ll know when it’s done. When I’m gone." She doesn't have a response to that. "I want you to ghoul him.”

She’s shaking her head before he’s done talking. “Nelli, listen to me. We knew it could come to this. I need you to take care of them. You're so strong, I know you can do this.” She stands up and leans into him, taking in the smell of his cologne. It’s older, but very Victor. She once joked that he was the only person that still bought it. He wraps his arms around her and then she knows that what she feels is her heart breaking. “Okay,” she says into his shirt. She isn’t crying. She thought that she would, but she can’t. He lets her go and presses a soft kiss into her temple.

The rest of the hour passes in a blur. Eventually Victor goes and talks to Campbell and everyone stops when they hear the yelling. Campbell comes out looking as broken as she feels, and she straightens his jacket and offers him a shot. He refuses. She’s brought a stack of documents to sign transferring the Temple of Boom to her, and her hand only shakes a little when she writes her name.

Before she’s ready, the three of them get into a Black SUV, and Campbell drives. There's quiet music playing in the background, and she knows that it’s his favorite thing he’s ever produced. He was so proud of that album. The seats are as comfortable as ever, but sitting still seems impossible. Victor sits in the back with them, and they watch the city pass through the windows. He wraps his arm around her in a pointless attempt to calm her, and she sits so close to him, she’s practically in his lap. He speaks quietly on occasion, pointing out places he used to frequent or places they’ve been together. She lets him give her his happy memories. She rests against his chest and takes in the familiar silence.

Occasionally, she catches sight of two more black SUV’s in the mirrors. They’re being followed by two security cars that couldn’t possibly help. She can’t see Jasper, and he hasn’t spoken since they’ve got in the car, not even when Victor brings up places the three of them have gone together, so she’s surprised when he speaks.

“This is probably a trap.”

He doesn’t have to say it. They all know.

She pulls back and looks up at him. Victor stares at her with such longing, she doesn’t have the heart to agree out loud. Victor answers from her side, never taking his eyes from her. “Well, you stay unseen, and if it is, you can go and find her.”

Jasper scoffs, “I can’t leave.” It would warm her heart any other time, but Victor’s playing with her fingers and there is no room for anything other than the panicked want in her chest.

If the four of them die here, she’s going to be pissed. She's always wanted to die somewhere beautiful, like a beach or something.

The drive ends far too quickly. When they get there, there’s an armored limo waiting, with several kindred leaning up against it. “Stay in the car unless it gets violent. I don’t want any more of us in harm’s way than necessary.” He unbuckles his seat belt and pauses. He reaches to the front seat and shakes Campbell's hand. “Thank you for your service.” The man nods gravely, and they all pretend not to notice the tears. “It was my honor.”

He reaches out for Jasper next and they’re all surprised when he clasps Victor’s hand tightly. “Jasper, I- I can’t even tell you what it means to me that you’ve stuck with us all these years.” Jasper starts, then stops. He falters for a few long moments. “You’re a good man, Victor.” And for the two of them, it’s enough.

He turns to her.

She expects to start crying, but the disbelief makes it impossible to feel anything else. He pulls a ring off his finger and presses it into her hand. He looks at her, and they stare. She takes in every line of his face and he does the same. After a few long seconds, he leans down and kisses her once. “I love you. I love you,” he whispers in her ear.

“I,” She hates herself. “Victor, I-”

She’s so desperate, but even now the words are impossible. She gives him an imploring look.

He shakes his head, grinning a little. “I know, darling. I know.” He presses one more kiss into her hairline and then he leaves the car and Campbell follows, loyal to the end.

She expects the kindred to start jeering or yelling, but it’s painfully silent. One of them, a dark-haired man, opens the door and Annabelle is being dragged out, bound and gagged. Jasper snarls from inside the car. The man holds her in his arms, and the four of them meet halfway.

Victor takes her from the kindred’s arms. He stares at her for a moment before he leans down to whisper in her ear. She starts fighting even harder, yelling through the gag. He hands her to Campbell and calmly walks to the waiting car. The other kindred begin to pile into other parked vehicles. He takes one last glance at the SUV. She doesn’t know if he can see her through the tinted glass, but she reaches out and presses her hand against it anyway. Jasper does the same. He waves a little in their direction and she can hear Jasper curse, voice thick under his breath. Campbell watches Victor get in and then slowly begins to back away with Annabelle, who fights him the entire time. Nelli can see her reaching for him, trying to call his name. Victor and the others are gone before Annabelle makes it into the SUV.

She stops fighting the moment she sees Jasper. She takes one look at their faces, and Nelli will never know what she sees, but Annabelle breaks. She begins crying in an awful way that Nelli never wants to hear again. When they get her free, she launches herself at Jasper, curling into his arms. “They told me you were dead,” she sobs and Nelli allows herself a moment to be spiteful before she feels guilty.

The car is in motion as soon as Campbell gets back in. She moves to sit next to the two of them, rubbing Annabelle’s back as she cries. Nelli doesn’t have the words to soothe her. Nelli doesn’t have the words to soothe herself. She tells Campbell to drive them to the gas station near Jasper’s place. It takes some arguing, but eventually she forces him to feed. The 20 minutes it takes for him to do so are deceptively silent except for the soft hiccups coming from Annabelle. The girl curls into her, holding onto Nelli as though she were a lifeline. It’s the only thing that prevents her from going to look for Victor. When Jasper returns, Annabelle moves back into him, but she holds Nelli’s hand. The two of them watch her with worried eyes and Nelli pretends not to notice.

The three of them make it back to the club in the early hours of the morning. Jasper carries Annabelle inside, and after she feeds and begins to mend, the four of them make their way to the Thorn area of the club. Campbell sits with them, nursing a coffee. They wait. Somewhere near 4:30 it happens. Campbell drops his cup, his hands going to his chest, and he wails. Nelli is tempted to wail with him. “He’s gone, he’s gone. I can feel it.”

He sobs on the floor and Annabelle joins him. She can hear Jasper cursing behind her, and smells the vitae coming from that direction. She still doesn’t cry. She stands as if in a daze and walks over to where Annabelle and Campbell sit on the floor, clutching each other. She tears into her wrist and squats in front of them, coaxing some of her blood into the broken man. Annabelle tries to stop her, but Jasper intervenes. “It’s what he wanted.”

Nelli ignores them entirely. Campbell seems to settle for a moment, licking his lips. “Miss Nelli? What are we going to do?” He asks her hollowly. She stands unsteadily, petting his head for a moment before she walks away. The blood drips freely from her wrist and the feeling is calming. Jasper and Annabelle both call to her. She starts moving faster and before she knows where she wants to go, she’s standing outside of his door. She takes a deep breath before she opens the door. It’s empty. She knew it would be. She strips herself of her blood-stained clothing before grabbing one of his undershirts from out of the hamper, licking her wrist shut so she wouldn't ruin it. She walks over to his side of the bed and lays there, staring at the ceiling. She still doesn’t cry.

None of them see Victor again.

…

Running the Temple of Boom is hard. V- She flinched, like she does anytime someone mentions his name. _He_ had been the business oriented one. He took care of the details for them both.

His team still worked on maintaining the club and the label, though they worked for her now, but she had trouble finding new talent. In the months following his absence, sales skyrocketed. The news went public a week after it happened. They call it a heart attack, and say his body’s been cremated. It’s close enough to the truth that the public accepts it.

She never does.

She plans a public memorial the day of the opening of the Maharani. She gets artists from the Temple to play, and there’s a standing ovation at the end of Chocolate Drop’s rendition of Hallelujah.  She even gets Mark to speak. The twins' mother tells her that it was beautiful, she says that he was lucky to have her. The apologies that Nelli give her seemed feeble in comparison. The woman lost the father of her children. All she’d lost was a business partner, technically. Everyone knows that’s not true.

She says a few words towards the end. She felt sort of dumb, it wasn’t like he could hear her now. She’d activated Blush of Life and tried to do him justice, but there was no way that any combination of words could describe what he’d been to her.

There was no way to describe his smile or the way he seemed to spend more time laughing than talking. She couldn’t find the words to describe how he cared for people. He took care of every person that crossed his path. He was generous, he was loyal, he was her best friend. He was everything. There aren’t enough words for everythings.

She’d spent half a minute shaking in front of the microphone before she could speak. Her sunglasses hid the insecurity in her eyes, and she was glad she kept them on. They kept her centered, protected, from the sadness that seemed to be emanating from the crowd. It was only Annabelle’s hand on her back that had gotten her through a speech that tried to take almost a decade’s worth of love and condense it into five minutes. She looked out into a sea of people from behind the podium and talked about her everything.

The only dry eyes in the room had been hers.

She shakes her head, pushing the memory from her mind as she goes through the files of potential new talent. She’s sorely tempted to ask Annabelle for help, but she remembers how he felt about her taste. She didn’t have bad taste, per se, but she wasn’t exactly what he was looking for. And there weren't very many people she could ask for help. She still couldn’t even look at Jasper some days and when she was looking at him, he wasn’t looking at her. She couldn’t tell if he was angry with her or if he thought she was angry with him. He’d lost Annabelle.

She let him go. She had been so scared for Annabelle, she had let him go instead. They didn’t even try to find a solution. They didn’t try to fight. Jasper wasn’t wrong. He had died for her as much as he’d died for Annabelle. She tried not to think about it most nights. She usually failed.

She set the file she’d been looking at down on her desk, leaning back to stretch. She kept her own office even though she was the head of the label. The room had been repainted. Her walls were a dark charcoal and the room was filled with light wood and plant accents. It wasn’t dissimilar to Victor’s home office. In fact, some of the decorations had been taken from his house.

The house was given to his sons, per his request. She’d gone on before they had a chance, taking some of the things that she knew he’d want her to have or that he wouldn’t have wanted them to see. Isaiah had wanted to sell, and she’d been ready to buy it herself, but Mark had talked him into taking a higher cut of the insurance for his share of the house. He’d told her to take whatever she wanted before he had everything moved to storage or donated.

She’d taken some of his trophies and had an idea.

She had his office at the Temple turned into a shrine for his accomplishments. She’d had the walls painted a vibrant red he would have loved, with gold fixtures. She hung pictures of him among his various awards. She had little facts about him and the business like it was a museum. The door was taken off and it was turned into a little cove of sorts, with benches pressed against the walls. Sometimes investors or reporters would wander in there during visits. No one else went in there. No one else could bear it.

She tapped her fingers on the wooden desk, before standing up. She neatened the files quickly, before pulling open a drawer, dropping them in there. She took her notes for her summer line and put those away as well. She pushed in her desk chair and headed for the door. She walked out of her office, pulling her earrings out as she moved. She could feel the stress resting underneath her skin and hoped that a shower would help.

She made her way towards what had once been his quarters and was now her permanent residence. She still had her Haven, but unless she was bringing home a guest, she slept here.

She moved out of the Thorn floor and into his space the very next night. It was like she could pretend he was coming home at first. She remembered waking up the next night in his bed and trying to figure out how the world hadn’t ended now that he was gone.

She unlocked the suite, sending a quick text to her garden that she was not to be disturbed. She got three affirmative texts in a matter of minutes.

She set her earrings on her dresser, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She didn’t look bad, at least. She just seemed distant, even to herself. She headed for the bathroom.

It was large and pristine, all white marble and gold. There were his and hers sinks, a large tub, and a crystal shower with a rain showerhead. It was easily her favorite part of their suite. She could imagine the two of them together here. Sometimes he liked to watch her get ready.

She stripped carelessly, throwing her clothes into her hamper as she turned on the water and got into the shower. She didn’t need to wait for it to heat up. The temperature didn’t bother her. It would have been freezing to anyone else, but there was no need to pretend to be mortal. The only thing that lived here was his memory.

After all these months, she still woke up some nights thinking that he was coming back. A part of her would always be waiting for him. She had so much to tell him.

She let the water run over her and tried not to think about the label. It was doing well for now. The sales would probably stay high for the first year, so there was still time before something new was expected. Before they were supposed to move on.

Annabelle and Jasper seemed to be having an easier time. After all these months, they talked about it. They talked about him. Not in front of her, never in front of her, but she knew they did. She’d walked in more than once and watched them clam up immediately, room smelling suspiciously of vitae.

She’d snapped at the first person to mention him to her after he was gone. Everyone had watched as she berated a security member to tears when he tried to tell her about something that he’d said once. It was meant to be soothing, but her heart had raged against the sadness. Now, no one said anything to her. They had all moved on.

She was supposed to be moving on. That’s what Abrams had told her before he left.

_They met at the Hollywood and Highland to discuss what was going to happen with the territory. The club had been suspiciously empty as of late, with clientele sensing something was off in the area. The Lasombra they saw those short weeks ago had been seen stalking the kine in the area. They were in his office, Nelli lounging on the couch trying to feign interest in what he was saying, absent-mindedly picking lint from her pencil skirt as he spoke._

_“I mean, I don’t know if you guys ever discussed it, but he loved you. He’d want you to have it and frankly, so do I.” She’d nodded blankly. It was two weeks out and there was no sign of him ever returning. She knew logically that he was gone. Campbell had told them, he'd described the sudden cold and weakness that had washed over him in that instant, but she hadn’t seen it. She knew there was nothing to see, but she would have preferred something. Anything that would force her to let go._

_“Nelli?” Abrams had asked. She blinked up at him. “Darling, he’s gone. Victor’s dead.” He winced when she flinched, and she wanted to apologize. “He’s not coming back. You need to make some decisions. You have to try to move on.” It was the only time she had wanted to laugh in his face. There were no words to describe the hole that she felt rip open inside of her when she watched him drive away from them. There was no moving on from that._

_“Isaac, please,” she sat up and tried to be earnest with him, reaching out to hold his hand. She ignored that it was the wrong shape, that guilt flickered through her like fire at his touch.  “I’ll take the territory. I’ll be the Baron. Just give me some time. We’re supposed to live forever, right? We’ve got time.” It doesn’t come out nearly as bitter as she intended. She sounded tired to herself and he watched her with such open pity that she wanted to hate him. Instead she felt herself weaken. She hadn’t cried yet and the temptation to cry here where Abrams can comfort her is strong. But V- He had been so angry with Isaac in the end. It almost feels like a betrayal._

_He kissed her hand once, before reaching out to straighten her blouse for her. She gave him a small smile of thanks before she brushed off his jacket. Some things were better left unsaid, and this was the language they used to show their affection. He pulled her in for a hug, a rare occasion between the two of them, and she tried to ignore the fact that he smelled wrong._

She sighed as she scrubbed her face. Isaac had given in to the call a month ago. The war with the Camarilla had gone cold after the Inquisition had raided one of their safe houses. The rumor was ten of their own had been killed, but it was only a rumor. After the Inquisition was taken care of, things would go right back to the series of fighting in the streets and vicious assassin attacks that had marked the few months prior.

Vannevar seemed to have believed that by killing V- _Him,_ he was killing the revolution and he had been right for about a day. The day after he passed was easily one of the darkest days in all of their lives. She hadn’t cried then, but she had watched as Annabelle fell apart. Jasper had held it together, but she could see the hurt in his eyes. It had taken everything they had to convince Annabelle that going to find Vannevar right then and there was a stupid, hopeless idea. The icing on the cake had come late into the night, a package left on their doorstep. It contained what had been with him when he left, and that was somehow worse than ashes. His phone was partially destroyed. His suit had been torn to strips. The shredded remains of his shirt showed how hard he fought. There was vitae covering it. She’d gone through his wallet, hoping for a note. Instead she found two pictures. The boys and their mother, and a picture of the coterie.

The repairs from Annabelle’s mourning forced them to push back the opening by another five days.

After the desolation had time to settle, Annabelle had taken to the streets. The fighting that followed had been one for the books. Nelli can still smell the blood that ran like rain in the streets. She could still feel the rage radiating from Annabelle like the sun. She didn’t remember half of the kindred she killed, but she remembered killing.

She turned the water off. She stepped out of the shower, snagging a fluffy, gray towel off the rack. She wrapped her hair before using another towel to dry off, and pulling on a robe. There was no way she was going back to work tonight.

She walked into their closet, moving past the few outfits of his she couldn’t bear to part with before going into her section. She settled for silk pajamas, taking care to dry her hair more thoroughly to not soak the material. She dropped the damp towel on the ottoman at the foot of their bed. She took the time to moisturize, but it felt like going through the motions. She shrugged her pajamas on, buttoning the top as she went in the bathroom to grab her ring.

She walked over to the sink where she usually left it when she showered and was surprised to see it wasn’t there. She walked over to the hamper, pulling out her clothes for the evening, thinking it had gotten trapped by the ruffles of her shirt somehow. When she didn’t find it, she began to pull all the clothes out. They piled up around her as she shook every individual article of clothing in a desperate search. She could feel the beginnings of panic curl into her chest.

She dropped the hamper and walked over to her nightstand, checking behind the lamp and in the drawers. _When had she last had it on?_ She racked her memory as she began to shift the decorative pillows out of the way, tossing them onto the floor. _She didn’t put it on that night._

The panic seized her. She pulled the comforter off the bed, heightening her hearing to listen for the sound of metal against cloth. There was nothing. _Why the hell hadn’t she put it on? She wore it every day, how could she forget? Was she forgetting him?_

She dropped the comforter, hands shaking. She reached for her phone, preparing to call Campbell. It was stupid, and a waste of his time, but she was running out of options. She stopped and took a deep breath. She tried to count to six. In a last-ditch attempt, she heightened her smell. Instantly, she was greeted with the smell of him. He was in the mattress, in the closet, in the dessers. She could smell him and the scent of metal drifting out from under the bed. She scrambled onto her knees, using her phone as a flashlight. She could see the ring and the chain stuck between the bed and the wall. Relief seeped into her limbs and she pressed her forehead to the carpet as she took a deep breath. She reached forward, grabbing the ring and tugging the chain free. She straightened up onto her knees before, sitting on the floor.

_Jesus Christ._

She pulled the chain over her head and held the ring in her hands. It had been his parting gift. He wanted her to have it. There was an overwhelming wave of guilt as she traced the silver of the ring. She thought she’d lost it. He had given her so much in their time together. The least she could do was protect his stupid ring and remember him.

It was a worry that was coming more and more these days. If she lived through the Inquisition and the War, she could live forever. Forever was a long time to try to remember the way someone smiled or the way he rolled his eyes or the way he kissed her. Remembering him was painful, but the thought of forgetting him was terrifying. How was she supposed to remember him if she still couldn’t say his fucking name? She held the ring in the palm of her hand. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath.

“Victor,” she whispered.

A thousand different memories flew through her head. Different moments of friendship and annoyance and laughter and living. She felt a tidal wave of grief mixed with a lifetime’s worth of joy hit her. How could she possibly forget him when her mouth still loved the taste of his name?

She tried again, trembling slightly.

“Victor.” It was like she had been holding her breath, and only now realized that she could breathe.

“Victor, I’m _so_ sorry.” Her voice broke and, for the first time in several months, Nelli cried.

It didn’t bring him back.

..

When the war ends, Annabelle is the one that ends it. Nelli watched as her pride and joy took the Prince’s head with a quick swipe of her blade. The last battle had been fought on the hill of the city, the Hollywood sign providing a scenic view as kindred fell around them. The Anarchs had marched their way up the mountain towards almost certain death. Annabelle led the charge, fighting off ambushes and shouting encouragements as they made their way to the lion’s den.

She was still wearing her red jacket. Nelli had stitched up the damn thing more times than she could count, and she hoped that no matter what happened that day, it would finally be retired. Annabelle wasn’t a college kid anymore.

The sword had been a gift. Abrams sent it to Annabelle herself, in a move that surprised everyone. It was a long, steel blade that was perfectly balanced. If she hadn’t known what it was for, Nelli would have been jealous. A dozen long-stemmed roses arrived for her that same night with a note attached. _Can’t wait to see you again -A._ She had watched them wilt in the weeks that passed without word.

She wrote him sometimes, shallow messages laced with code. She never got an answer.

Annabelle managed to go most of the War without killing anyone. She fought like the rest of them did, but there was always someone in the background ready to land the killing blow. It’s become a specialty, Annabelle and two or three others hunting in a pack.

She thinks that Victor would have been proud.

Vannevar was special. He had only become more volatile during their years of cold war. The fact that he couldn’t openly kill Anarchs lest he be struck down himself, seemed to haunt him. He’d grown so frustrated, he’d killed members of his own court.

Nelli had felt when Suzanne died, drained into an unstable Prince. The bond was broken. She and Greg had a quiet toast to the elder that night.

Jasper volunteered to do it. Everyone knew about how Annabelle felt about killing. Some of the kindred that opposed them sat on stakes in a cellar because Annabelle couldn’t bear to end them in their vulnerable state. Nelli volunteered too, although less enthusiastically. She knew she could kill Vannevar. She wanted to kill Vannevar, but Annabelle was their leader. It had to be her. After what happened with the Drum Circle, and the Valkyries, after what happened to Ramona…  Annabelle stared them dead in the eyes and said that it would be her.

Nelli still hates rats, but she misses the days when they would walk towards her rather than away from her.

They lost so much in all those years. Kindred and ghouls would be laughing one day and ashes the next. She tried not to see her own losses when she closed her eyes.

Even with so much blood on his hands, Annabelle still held a vote. It had been nearly unanimous. For working with mortals, for crimes against The Masquerade, and for the murders of several dozen kindred, Prince Vannevar Thomas was sentenced to death.

It hadn’t been easy. She only found out later about who had been lost to get Annabelle to him. She tried not to remember Eva crying into an empty leather jacket while Jasper held her. She recognized the ash covered thing from days planning attacks, from retrieving her sister from the park, from that first fateful night at the Grove. She focused on the living instead. Unliving. She hadn’t noticed they’d gotten that close, but she didn’t notice a lot of things these days.

The fire of victory had led the kindred into what felt like a week-long party. The rest of the Camarilla returned to San Francisco to rebuild and lick their wounds. Few saw the rebellion leader on the street those days, and Nelli knew that she would find the girl crying into her own mementos when no one else was looking.

Annabelle comes up with her craziest idea yet in those following weeks in between the tears and the celebration. She decides on a council that has to be voted on every five years. Nelli has no idea whether it will work or not, but she’s always been willing to follow Annabelle. They all were, until the bitter end.

The council idea is implemented quickly, between the war and the Inquisition there aren’t too many of them left to choose from. It’s quickly decided that the members of the original coterie should all have positions representing their different clans. Those positions come with different territories and the reality takes a second to set in. Their time together is over.

They hadn’t really felt like a family without him. Jasper and Annabelle leaned on each other, but it had always been her and Victor against the world. What they had, they’d built together. It didn’t feel right to continue that without him.

Annabelle cries the day they all leave each other. It’s decided that Nelli will keep the Valley. It was always meant to be hers.  Abrams still isn’t back from the east, and privately Nelli knows that he’s never coming back, so Hollywood is given to Jasper. Therese was ousted from Santa Monica, and then killed during the final battle, so that’s where Annabelle sets up shop.

Life moves on.

A few months later she gets a call from Annabelle that she and Mark are getting married. It’s the first time she makes her way out to Santa Monica since Annabelle has become their representative. The two of them are as in love as they were when she first met them and her heart clenches at the sight of them. There was a reason she didn’t come to visit.

She still takes ghouls and mortals to warm her bed, but it’s different. The devotion isn’t really meant for her. It’s meant for her face, her body, her status. No one smiled at her because she was being annoying, or because they were existing in the same space. None of them looked at her with love despite what she’d done.

The way they look at each other, like they could stare at each other forever, is so familiar it makes her ache. These days she can’t tell if she’s romanticizing what she and Victor had, or if she’s only seeing it clearly now that he’s been gone for so long. Annabelle says it’s the latter. “He looked at you like you hung the moon in the sky.” It’s the first time they cry together and it’s nice. It’s nice to know she’s not the only one who misses him or still thinks about him. Thinks about what might’ve been.

She helps Annabelle plan the wedding in between travelling, signing artists (it takes a while, but she gets the hang of it), and designing new collections. Thorn goes international and it’s one of the most exhilarating moments of her unlife.

The two of them marry on a cool summer night to the backdrop of the city. The night is clear, and the stars shine extra brightly. It’s a private garden and the greenery sets a scene like a fairytale against the reds and whites of their wedding palette. They wanted to have a small wedding, and technically it is. It’s also one of the most expensive weddings Los Angeles has seen in years, but they don’t need to know that.

White chairs face an outcropping overlooking the city and they give their vows in front of ivy and lattice. Nelli sits in the front row and watches Annabelle marry one of the loves of her life. Isaiah is the best man and Ellenore is the maid of honor. They’re dressed in dark suits that won’t hit the market until next year. Annabelle is in a boho dress that is not Nelli’s style, but is designed with the more care than her own wardrobe. It’s all cream and lace, and it drapes over her form in a way that’s almost Grecian. Ellenore is in something devastating and maroon, it’s one of Nelli’s favorite things she’s ever designed. She makes a mental note to think about a wedding collection. She already can’t wait for Ellenore and Mark to marry in the winter.  

It’s a gorgeous reception, and she smiles graciously when Campbell compliments her on her designs. It’s in a garden, and it’s like someone has dropped a bar and a dance floor in the middle of Eden. Dozens of mortals and kindred all mingle at circular tables that ring the dance floor like they're barricading the joy of this moment from the rest of the world. Campbell asks her for a dance before he goes to mingle with Greg and Chloe. He’s still loyal to her after all these years. Maybe more surprising, he’s still loyal to Victor as well. Sometimes they visit his memorial together, even though they both know he’s not there.

No one knows where he is anymore.

She takes a moment to find Jasper while the mortals have dinner. “Dance with me?” She asks, trying to smile at him. The mistrust is still there, and it takes a not-so-gentle nudge from Eva to get him out on the floor. He seems surprised when she rests his hand on her hips and wraps her arms delicately around his neck. He can’t really dance, so they just sway. They stand at an awkward stalemate before she clears her throat. “How have you been?”

“Fine. Good. Hollywood is nice. You?”

He’s not looking into her eyes and she wonders if this was a bad idea. She doesn't want to fight on Annabelle's special day. She knows the worry is unfounded. They hadn’t fought in years, not really. It was hard to fight someone you pretended didn’t exist. “I’m well. Business is still booming. I have a few decades left before I have to retire, but I’m happy.” He hums uninterested, his eyes wandering over her head.

“So, you and Eva, finally?” He snaps back to her, sneering. She tries to put an innocent look on her face and he scowls at her, and it’s so familiar she can’t tell if she wants to laugh or cry. “Don’t.” She fails to hide her smile and nods once.

“I’m happy for you. This? Happiness? It’s a good look, I like this look.” They both freeze as her words register. He slowly starts to sway awkwardly again, twirling her once to both their surprise. The song ends and she takes a step back.

“Thank you, Nelli,” he murmurs flatly, eyes still suspicious.

She doesn’t see him again for a long time after that.

She finds herself at an empty table with Isaiah later that night. They’re surrounded by empty bottles, and she can hear Annabelle laughing with X in the background. Isaiah had wandered over to her and they shared a sweet, but awkward dance after the father-daughter dance. It’s not really father-daughter. Annabelle dances with at least four different people. All the men that might have called themselves her father at one time are gone. They talk about Mark and Annabelle. The years of fighting had matured them both even if they didn’t age anymore. They talk about the business and she finds herself hearing the story of the Temple of Boom again for the first time in years. In return, she tells Isaiah about the time they premiered her spring collection.

They stay in touch. It’s weird for her at first, Isaiah’s the only one who isn’t involved with the Masquerade. She has to be in top form, and she knows that he’s suspicious. Between her and Annabelle, he has some theories, but he never asks questions. Once or twice a month, they meet for coffee and share stories. There's a café in the Valley where they’re known. It’s a modern little thing, Chelsea recommends it. It’s chic, and Nelli doesn’t mind being there. She pretends to sip from the pristine mug as they talk.

Isaiah says he wants to try to figure out who his Dad was. He claims that Nelli knew him best in the end. That she had loved him best in the end. She privately disagrees. In return, she gets to hear about the side of Victor she only had for a short time. She hears stories of vacations, pranks, and inside jokes that make her snort in a very unladylike fashion.

Sometimes, Isaiah tells her the stories he got from his Mom. She slowly learns the grand love story of Victor’s first wife. She has no room for jealousy while she’s harboring so much guilt.

Their meetings don’t stop for as long as Isaiah lives in LA. Mark joins them on occasion and the three of them become closer than she would have ever thought possible. She learns to love them before she could stop herself, and she tries to prepare herself to have her heart-broken by a Temple man again.

The years pass. Slowly at first and then all at once.

Their mother dies. It’s an accident, no one could have seen it coming. It rips Isaiah apart. He didn’t take the time to settle down, so in his thirties, he moves across the country to New York. Nelli and Campbell take him to the airport.

Mark leans on Annabelle, and the two of them still meet alone sometimes, although less often. Isaiah takes the time to call her every month. He jokes she’s the closest thing to a parent he has left.

She makes time to bother Jasper. Their territories border each other and occasionally, she finds herself wandering Griffith at night, the college and the park. She knows he never left his haven, even if they conduct business in the Observatory. He comes to her one night as she looks over the college from what she knows is his favorite spot at the top of the Student Union Building. She watches all the students pass by from a dark corner, feet hanging over the side of the building. It’s not like the fall can kill her.

She hears him before she sees him. He’s wearing a dark hoodie over black jeans, hood pulled around his head. He eyes her with suspicion as she pats the space next to her wordlessly. He wanders closer, hesitating.

“What are you doing here, Nelli? This isn’t the Valley.”

She shoots back without thinking, “It’s not _not_ the Valley.”

She can’t tell if he’s snarling or laughing, but he sits next to her anyway.

They sit together in silence as the moon reaches for the horizon. They need to have this talk. Or a talk, at least. Even after all these years, they were a part of the same family, no matter how it broke, or bent, or grew. She doesn’t know how to start. There’s no good way to explain. She watches the campus grow still and hopes that she isn’t wasting her time.

Eventually, he breaks the silence. “Do you blame me?” He’s looking down on the quad, knuckles whitening over the brick they’re sitting on.

“I used to. Do you blame me?”

She takes a moment to examine her nails, not looking up at him even when he stares.  
  


“Sometimes.”

She nods. The night air quiets around them once more. After a few minutes, she stands, brushing off her slacks and straightening her blouse. “Goodbye, Jasper.”

He’s already disappeared.

“Goodbye,” he whispers back, a ghost on the wind.

She knows that some things can’t be fixed and the two of them had always been broken. It’s better than she expected and that’s all she could really ask for. She starts sending letters to Eva on occasion, and that’s close enough for the two of them.

It’s not all bad.

One day, she gets a call from Annabelle. Mark and Ellenore are having a baby. It’s a cool October day when Nelli meets his first grandchild. It’s love at first sight.

She looks a lot like Mark. The child grows faster than Nelli believes is necessary. She crawls, then walks. Runs. She is curious and cunning and adorable. She grabs at Nelli’s jewelry with sticky fingers and babbles about farm animals, and Nelli is smitten.

Tori is bright and charming. Even for a child, she is particularly business minded, trading chores for allowances and later bedtimes. She takes after her grandfather more than any of them will ever realize and Nelli loves her more and more every day. Nelli isn’t actually her grandmother and refuses to be referred to as such. She won’t let them call her Nana, Grandma, or Abuela either. She is simply Nelli. At first, they explain that Nelli is Annabelle’s mom, but that confuses anyone who meets her. There’s less than ten years between them physically, so that half-truth is abandoned. Later, she’s simply referred to as their late grandfather’s wife. It hurts less than she thought it would.

As the kids age, Mark decides that it’s his time too. As he grows, he looks more and more like his father. It’s a slap in the face sometimes. Everyone is gracious enough to pretend not to notice the way she stares at him. She comes over one day to find that he’s shaved his beard away, claiming that it was, “Too damn hot.” She rolls her eyes at him, pinching his cheek as he bats at her hand. She’s grateful.

Isaiah has his own family in New York. She’d flown out for the wedding, all of them had, and his wife is a lovely mortal woman. Absolutely perfect for their one normal child. She tells his wife stories that she hears from Mark or some of the few she’d gotten from Victor, and she loves the woman too, despite her best attempts. When they tell her they’re expecting, she has to hang up to stop them from seeing the blood spill down her face.

She loves Mark and Annabelle, but they have each other. They could speak freely about anything. Isaiah is the odd man out, and she tries her best to include him when possible. One kid turns into two before she knows it. She spends a week out there meeting with them when they become old enough to remember her. She sends birthday cards and Christmas gifts, and they call her Nonna even though it makes her nose crinkle. She loves it.

They facetime consistently between what become yearly visits and their overlapping voices bring her a kind of joy she’d never thought she’d experience.

The springs come and go, and life goes on. Isa has babies of her own and Nelli finds herself surrounded by children. Her youngest niece goes by Petra and Nelli privately thinks that she got the short end of that bargain. They help keep her from growing stale as the years pass.

She finds herself walking through the garden one night, listening to their oldest prattle on about an election simulation at school. Nelli has to stop to take the girl in. It blows her mind to see how over a decade has aged her darling little girl into almost a woman. They still take late night trips sometimes, and she’s so lucky that Mark, Annabelle, and Ellenore trust her enough for this. The garden is a project she’d come up with the moment she went the Victor’s house for the first time. It’s taken some convincing, but Mark gave her his blessing and it flourished under her careful touch. She wouldn’t have thought of herself as having a green thumb, but it blooms for her as though that’s it's the only reason it grows at all.

She’s half listening, letting the hum of Tori's voice soothe her when she spots a gorgeous rose. She snags a pair of shears from the basket she carries, sniffing it as she bends to inspect it closer.  She clips it gently, offering it to the girl. She gets that beautiful Temple smile in return, along with a blush and a quiet, “Thank you.” They walk in silence together taking in the hedges and the other blossoms.

“Victoria?”

Tori looks up at her, still giving her Victor’s grin. “Yeah?”

Her heart was so full these days. “Did you know you have your grandfather’s smile?”

Tori blinks at her in surprise. Nelli still doesn’t talk about him much to the kids.

“Really?”

She nods, “Absolutely, Darling.”

The little girl, all grown up, runs her fingers over the petals of the flower. “Tell me about him?”

Nelli mends.

..

The Second War is not as big of a surprise as the first one. The Sabbat have been slowly regrouping around the edges of the city. The Lasombra and Tzimisce have been spotted in several cities around the country. The biggest sign comes from Chicago. It's been completely overrun, the Camarilla are forced out of the city entirely. The mortals blame a new gang and chalk it up to a particularly violent summer in the city. The Ivory Tower begins to fall state by state. No one is surprised when they make their way to the Anarch Free States of Los Angeles.

The fighting is vicious this time. Without the Inquisition, there’s no reason to stop. None of them pull punches. The children and mortals leave. Nowhere is truly safe, but especially not Los Angeles. Not anymore. She rides with them to the airport. She takes in her human family for the last time. Mark and Victoria give her those matching grins that break her heart.

She doesn’t know if she’ll see them again. She makes quiet arrangements for the club and the brand. Annabelle barges in yelling after she receives a manila envelope with a blue file folder. Nelli refuses to argue with her.

“This is my legacy. Mine and his. _You_ are our greatest accomplishment. You're all I have. Even if you don't want it, if you sell, it’s yours to decide. I trust you.”

She rages silently and even after all these years, Nelli wants to take care of her. She wants to tell Annabelle that she’ll be okay. Nelli didn’t give in to the urge to coddle her when she was 2 months dead, and she doesn’t now over twenty years later.

“I don’t accept this,” Annabelle snarls at her, pacing around her office like a caged animal. Like a beast.

“You don’t have to.”

Nelli sits on the couch and when Annabelle calms down enough, she joins her. They hold hands on the couch, trying to enjoy each other’s company before there’s no more time.

Nelli's grown more powerful as the decades have passed. When she and Jasper finally meet again, he seems almost impressed. She hugs him even when he growls at her. She presses a kiss into his disgusting cheek and whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

He freezes in her arms before awkwardly patting her back. “Yeah, me too, I guess.”

When they fight, she feels at ease. She can almost feel her mind starting to crystalize with time and this keeps her young now that the kids are away.

The fighting goes on for three bitter months before it gets the better of her.

It happens quickly. Annabelle is fighting with a Lasombra and Nelli yells out a warning, watching a second shadowy tendril drift behind her.  Annabelle has enough time to duck before she sees the woman she considers a mother run through with a stake.

At this age, Nelli has more Willpower than most. She whispers, “Love” at her, before it’s all over and she’s gone. She barely feels it. The last thing she sees is Annabelle reaching for her.

She wakes up blinded by sunlight. It scares her, she hasn’t seen the sun in years, but it doesn’t burn. She doesn’t know where she is. She can only imagine this is a beach of some sort. Water laps at the sand and she takes half a step back, almost stumbling. She feels him before he speaks.

“Careful.”

He steadies her gently, and she feels him fix her hair. Her heart is racing, and she doesn’t know when it started beating again. She wants to turn around and see him, but she's scared that if she looks, he'll be gone again. She can almost feel that emptiness inside her filling up. She’s terrified this is just a trick, because she doesn’t deserve this happiness. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he murmurs.

She can almost see the smile on his face, the one she’s seen on his sons and grandchildren for years. She turns around and finds herself at home looking into eyes she hasn’t seen in over two decades. She reaches out to touch him with one hand, whispering,

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think that maybe one day, my ship will become canon and I'll have a reason to write fluff.


End file.
